lessness to the neglect of his relations. ‘Was it not your uncle Godwin who educated you?’ he was asked. ‘Yes,’ said Swift, ‘he gave me the education of a dog.’ ‘Then,’ was the reply, ‘you have not the gratitude of a dog’ (Scott on the authority of Theophilus Swift). Godwin was at this period losing money (Deane Swift, pp. 41, 21), and in 1688 ‘fell into a lethargy.’ Swift was apparently helped by his other uncles—William, whom he calls the ‘best of his relations’ (to William Swift on 29 Nov. 1692), and Adam. Godwin's son Willoughby, settled in an English factory at Lisbon, sent him a present at a moment when he was almost in despair, and from that time, he says, he learnt to be a better economist (Deane Swift, p. 54). Swift, however, seems to have retained little regard for his family (ib. p. 353), and it is probable that their generosity was so administered as to hurt his pride. A desire for independence became a passion with him.
The troubles which followed the expulsion of James II forced Swift to leave Dublin. He retired to his mother's house at Leicester. She was a cheerful frugal woman, who thought herself rich and happy on 20l. a year. She had a touch of humour, and amused herself, on a visit to Dublin in later years, by passing off her son to her landlady as a lover who had to visit her secretly. Swift was always a good son, and deeply affected by her death (24 April 1710). Mrs. Swift was now alarmed by her son's attentions to a certain Betty Jones. He explained to a friend that he despised the Leicester people as ‘wretched fools,’ and that prudence and a ‘cold temper’ prevented any thoughts of marriage. A ‘person of great honour’ in Ireland had told him that his mind was ‘like a conjured spirit which would do mischief if I did not give it employment.’ He had therefore permitted himself these little ‘distractions’ (to Kendall, 11 Feb. 16 Feb. 1691–2).
Sir William Temple, the statesman, was about this time retiring from Sheen to Moor Park, near Farnham in Surrey. Temple and his father had known Godwin Swift, and Lady Temple, it is said, was related to Swift's mother. Temple now took Swift into his family. He was, according to an untrustworthy report (Richardson to Lady Bradshaigh, quoting John, nephew of Sir W. Temple), to have 20l. a year and his board, and was not allowed to sit at table with his employer. He was by this time suffering from attacks of giddiness, attributed by himself to a ‘surfeit of fruit.’ Physicians, he says, ‘weakly imagined’ that his native air might be beneficial. On 28 May 1690, in any case, Temple recommended him to Sir Robert Southwell (1635–1702) [q. v.], who had been appointed secretary of state for Ireland, and was to accompany William III on his expedition from England (Letter first published in Cunningham's edition of Johnson's Lives, iii. 160). Temple says that Swift knew Latin and Greek, some French, wrote a good hand, and was honest and diligent. He had kept Temple's accounts, served as amanuensis, and might wait on Southwell ‘as a gentleman,’ act as clerk, or be appointed to a fellowship at Trinity College. Nothing came of this; but Swift was in Ireland in 1691, whence he returned in the autumn, and, after visiting Leicester, was again at Moor Park in February 1691–2. He was now thinking of taking orders. He was admitted in June to the B.A. degree at Oxford on the strength of testimonials from Dublin, and on 5 July became M.A. as a member of Hart Hall. In November he writes that he is not to take orders until the king fulfils a promise to Temple of giving him a prebend. Temple is ‘less forward’ than could be wished, finding the value of Swift's services to himself. Temple showed his rising estimate of Swift by introducing him to William III, who offered, it is said, to give the young man a troop of horse, and taught him how to cut asparagus (Deane Swift, p. 108; and see Faulkner's story in Scott, p. 29). In the spring of 1693 Temple sent Swift to William to persuade the king to consent to the bill for triennial parliaments. William's refusal to be convinced was, he says, ‘the first incident that helped to cure him of vanity.’
Swift had already been trying his hand at literature. He wrote pindarics after the fashion of Cowley, one of which (dated 1691–2) appeared in the ‘Athenian Mercury’ of the eccentric John Dunton [q. v.], and is said by Johnson to have provoked Dryden's contemptuous remark, ‘Cousin Swift, you will never be a poet.’ Swift gave up pindarics; and two later epistles—one to Congreve, and one to Temple upon his recovery from an illness—begin to show genuine satirical power. He was becoming restless and doubtful as to his prospects. He had, he says, ‘a scruple of entering into the church merely for support;’ but Temple, who held the sinecure office of master of the rolls in Ireland, having offered him ‘an employ of about 120l. a year’ in that office, Swift thought his scruple removed, and returned to Ireland, where he was ordained deacon by Moreton, bishop of Kildare, on 28 Oct. 1694, and priest on 13 Jan. 1694–5
